


Blood & Grit

by AmuseMe, Vectorsigma3441



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bloodplay, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Fisting, Knotting, M/M, Mech Preg, Parent/Child Incest, Prostitution, discriminatory slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-11-16
Packaged: 2017-11-15 12:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmuseMe/pseuds/AmuseMe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vectorsigma3441/pseuds/Vectorsigma3441
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the beginnings of the war, a widowed Autobot with nothing to lose finds himself spurred on by the desire of a young Decepticon commander who doesn't seem to want to let him go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Prologue_

"It takes someone special to be a saboteur, soldier. There is no pay, no reimbursement for expenses. Autobots will not recognize you. You do not have any rank because your identity will be a mystery to everyone…you must survive alone under the constant threat of torture and death."

Jazz's visor doggedly stared across the table at Prowl's blue optics. His helm lolled on his shoulders and a thin trickle of mechblood ran down his chin. As Jazz leaned forward, the decorated Enforcer symbol on his chassis could be seen scorched with burns and dents. His optics had long dried, but the cleansing fluid was still streaked down his cheeks.

He breathed out, his vents rattling.

"Whatever it takes."

 

* * *

_One vorn later_

 

Decepticons _loved_ pleasure houses. Jazz loved working in them for precisely that reason.

Not only did Decepticon commanders have sex with the prostitutes, they also held meetings and events which ranged from general propaganda planning by members of the Decepticon controlled senate to social orgies that important members attended.

"Hey bitch, what's your fucking problem? I want more energon!"

Jazz was broken out of his daze and spun into action by quickly pouring Astrotrain another drink. He smiled and displayed his beautiful silver-and-black painted body in all the best possible angles as he artfully leaned across the Decepticon's lap. Astrotrain gave him a _look_ but Jazz was able to diffuse it by trailing his fingers down to the mech's pelvic unit, teasing the interface cover open so that he could tap the recessed head of his spike. With his engine purring, Jazz really was the picture of subservient beauty.

"I'm sorry my lord, I get distracted whenever you're around because all I can think about is your big cock and those impressive knots… they stretch me open so wide," Jazz gushed out, leaning against the mech's side. "I may be only a pleasurebot, but I know a quality mech when I _feel_ one."

Astrotrain laughed as he wrapped an arm around Jazz's shoulders. "I'm sure you say that to _all_ the mechs, baby."

"Only you, I swear," Jazz continued in a sultry tone.

The room was dim and filled with Decepticons chatting loosely. Jazz licked his plump lips and parted them, ready to dish out more compliments when the room suddenly fell quiet upon a new group's arrival. Jazz tilted his head to the side so he could carefully observe everyone who came through the door without looking too interested. A few typical low-level commanders who regularly came by filed in, greeting friends and checking out the available prostitutes. But a new mech sauntered into the place after that and the dark, sharp curves of his body had Jazz surreptitiously staring. It was one of the few that he did not recognize.

"Excuse me, my lord. I must get more energon to serve," Jazz quietly said, his interest piqued.

With a few graceful sways of his hips, Jazz flitted quickly around the tables and patrons. He paused for a fleeting moment when he saw that he had caught the strange Decepticon's red optics, but then quickly strode into the next room. There were several femmes were excitedly whispering amongst themselves, and a lone mech who was picking up cups from the cleansing unit. Jazz brought his serving tray over to a counter and filled a pitcher.

"I'm gonna go for a quick cygar break, okay?" Jazz announced to his supervisor.

The supervisor grunted a response – presumably a yes. Jazz set the filled pitcher down and walked out of the room at a leisurely pace, then darted down the hall when no one was looking. He emerged out onto a balcony overlooking the establishment. Jazz surveyed the mechs coming in, his blue visor scanning through the large group gathered outside the front doors. 

Soundwave.

Jazz's pump hammered when he noticed the unmistakable frame of the Decepticons' notorious telepath. There was no way he would _not_ realize Jazz was.

To seem nonchalant, Jazz lit up a cygar and took several puffs on it as he continued to watch the throng of mechs enter the building. When he was sure Soundwave was inside, Jazz turned sharply and headed back down the hallway, peeking carefully around the corner. Everyone had gone back into the main entertainment room now that break was nearly over. Time to make his escape.

The escape was only a lift down and a set of stairs that led to an exit to the back alley. Jazz hopped out, his pedes splashing down on the acid rain that had pooled on the pavement. With hunched shoulders he began walking away nonchalantly.

With one part of his cpu on his immediate surroundings, the other part raged that Soundwave had to turn up. That meant that Jazz would have to reinvent his disguise all over again. The scowl he now wore was a huge contrast to the sweet smile he was giving Astrotrain previously. He rubbed at his mouth and paused for a brief moment so that he could send out a subtle sensor sweep, just to check that he wasn't followed.

It turned out that he was.

He could sense them now, even without the scanner. That fragger Soundwave must have noticed him straight away. Jazz didn't know how many the telepath had sent out after him, or whether it was those pesky little minions of his. He could fight, but it was a risk he didn't want to take and he certainly didn't want to end up being interrogated by Soundwave. _That_ was an experience he never, ever wanted to repeat.

Jazz sped up his pace and placed most of his weight on the front stabilisers of his pedes so that he could bounce silently from step to step. The streets were too narrow for him to transform and they were littered with potholes. There was a motorway just further on ahead, however. He could lose the tail there.

But it seemed like whoever was following him had exactly the same idea. When Jazz heard the roar of a loud, rough-sounding engine just behind him, he spun around and already had one hand in his subspace for his weapon. The insanely bright flash of headlights that shone right into his face blinded him. He managed to shoot out one headlight, cutting out enough light to see the custom all-terrain vehicle lunging out towards him. Jazz's programming reacted for him – he threw himself to the side to avoid it and immediately rolled to his pedes. As he jumped forward, ready to transform, something large and strong ended up tackling him from behind. Jazz fell face-first into the coarse surface of the pavement.

"Gotcha!" his attacker crowed triumphantly.

Jazz's gun cluttered off to the side and he reached out towards it, the tips of his fingers just able to graze against the weapon's butt. But an EMP device shoved against his neck had him black out before he could do anything more.

 

 

* * *

 

Jazz awoke quickly, jerking his limbs out so fast that a strut in his shoulder made an unpleasant sound against the shackles that bound his pedes to his hands. He was hunched over and keenly aware that his face was pressed into the moist top of a floor. With a muted groan he rolled over onto his opposite side so he could attempt to see more of the room. It was clearly a dank warehouse of some kind. Crates lined the opposite wall, a tiny berth in the corner, and a very impressive arsenal of torture items were wrapped up neatly in packages. Clearly someone cared about their work.

He remained still, trying to assess his situation. There was a cooling compressor somewhere high, to his left and he could hear it struggling to work. It was continuously dripping coolant from the build-up of condensation.

When the steady drip-drip began to echo louder and louder, Jazz realized that it was syncing up with the pedefalls of an approaching mech. Jazz turned his head to the side and stared upwards from the corner of his visor. He saw yellow and purple plating but given the angle he was in, he couldn't see anything beyond that.

"How goes it?" the mech drawled out.

"Fuck you," Jazz muttered as he pulled on his chains.

"Pull on them all you want. They ain't coming off."

Then a new voice joined in, dark and metallic. "Aw Groundhog, let him try…it's kinda amusing watching him wriggle like that."

It was the unidentified Decepticon that Jazz first saw at the pleasure house. He strolled from the doorway towards them, the spotlights above him illuminating the slick sharpness of his frame. He wasn't an overly large mech but he was long limbed and slender. He was a racer— that much was obvious.

Jazz opened his mouth, ready to toss out a rude retort…but it fizzled into nothing inside his vocalizer.

 _Meister_ …

And the old wound in his spark began to throb, reminding him that it never truly healed.

It wasn't uncommon to see others wear the same frame as his long-departed bondmate once did but he wasn't expecting this mech to carry it in exactly the same way. They even had the same wheel configuration; one pair protruding behind his shoulders with thin, angular winglets and the other pair merging into his outer arms.

Primus must have thought that he hadn't suffered enough.

"Got a tip-off from that buzzkill Soundwave that there was a—" The newcomer paused for the briefest of seconds, letting the words drag out in his vocalizer, "— little Autobot masquerading as a whore."

The mech stopped next to Groundhog and stared down at their captive. He had a wide, thin mouth and it was pulled to one side in a smirk that wasn't very comforting. Jazz just stared, not being able to believe the uncanny similarity of that mouth to Meister's…except Meister's smiles never had that sort of cruel edge.

"I'm Barricade," the mech introduced himself, a silvery fang glinting in the light as his smirk widened. "And you, Jazz, will be my precious guest. I'll make sure that your stay here is…very pleasant."

"Aw baby, who said I was masquerading?" Jazz said as he rolled up on his aft so he could stare up at the Decepticons. His wrists were still tightly bound to his ankles, so there wasn't much he could do. "And good luck getting any Autobot intelligence, because I ain't got none."

Barricade's smirk didn't even falter at that. "Who said I wanted intelligence from you?" With a sharp jerk of his arm, he snapped his fingers. "String him up for me, won't ya, Groundhog?"

"Sure thing, boss."

Without so much as a warning, Groundhog grabbed the linking chain that connected Jazz's wrists to his pedes and quite literally dragged him across the floor towards a set of hooks that dangled down from the high ceiling.

"Ah fuck all ya Decepticons!" Jazz snarled as his shoulder grated against the floor.

Jazz was hoisted high in the air and a loop on a cuff was slipped onto a hook, leaving him a dangling ball. Groundhog wasn't finished and he quickly undid the manacles so that Jazz's legs were free and his pedes dangled just off of the floor. The saboteur attempted to give Groundhog a fierce kick, but with nothing to counter his momentum, he merely swung harmlessly around.

"I thought you fuckers were still into the pussy first and not the after thing," Jazz sniped as he swung around. His arms were over-extended painfully, but that was the entire point. He grunted and shifted his arms. "But I guess Decepticons are always changing their policies."

"It's what keeps us fresh and exciting," Barricade retorted as he dismissed Groundhog with a quick gesture of his hand. "But no…don't think I'm going to kill you. Not sure if that's a good thing for you."

The doors slid shut with Groundhog's departure, leaving captor and captive alone in the vast open room. There was a long stretch of silence, save for the constant drip from the compressor and Jazz's laboured ventilations. Barricade surveyed his prey with a critical red optic, taking a few steps around him so that he could assess him from all angles.

"Comfortable?" he asked with a low, gurgling laugh and reached for the winch's control panel. "Here, let me lower that for you."

The manacles which Jazz dangled from were lowered slightly, enough for him to rest his weight on the tip of his pedes and relieve the strain on his arms but not enough for him to power up a kick.

"I heard so much about you," Barricade continued to speak, the dark infliction of his voice seeping in from somewhere behind Jazz. "We always knew that there was a spy that liked to burrow himself into our little social functions but we never knew who or where." Barricade paused and pressed the tip of a very sharp claw into the base of Jazz's back, right where his main transformation seam was. "Catching you was just a stroke of good luck."

"You don't know nothin' about me," Jazz insisted back, the tips of his pedes dancing across the floor as he swayed. "No one knows nothin' about me, 'cause there's nothing to know."

Barricade didn't seem all that happy at that. He reacted by digging his claws deep into Jazz's seams, wriggling into the widened gap between Jazz's lower spinal plate and the back of his pelvic girdle. His claws were thin and long enough to reach into Jazz's protoform, something that Barricade took advantage of.

"The funny thing is, is that no one knows you're here. I haven't informed any of the higher ups that I caught you," the Decepticon hissed out. "You know what means? It means that I can do whatever I like with you because contrary to what you think, I don't really care about keeping you alive long enough to get any info out of you. So be nice."

"Like I care?" Jazz grunted after he jerked his hips forward. "Fuckin' get on with it. I don't have all damn cycle, do you? You Decepticons need day jobs or somethin' because _fuck!_ "

"Damn, you talk too much!"

Barricade swung around so that he could face Jazz. He still kept his hand buried into Jazz's back however, arm wrapped around the saboteur's waist as a result in a mockery of an embrace. His face was too close to Jazz's, so close that faint scarring could be seen running across his upper cheek arch. The dermalplating around Barricade's red optics crinkled a little as he frowned.

"Retract it or I'll break it off," he ordered, tapping at Jazz's visor.

"Oh, now it's _nice_ Decepticon?" Jazz snapped as he turned his head so he could brush the sides of his visor against his inner arms, dislodging the connector jack. The visor fell to the floor and Jazz stared so heatedly into Barricade's optics that it was all he could do to ignore the Decepticon's strikingly familiar features. "Who are you, anyways? Some low-level grunt that's been hounding me?"

"Oh just someone on RnR with credits to spend, hoping to buy the prettiest whore at that stupid brothel," Barricade distractedly replied, gripping the edge of Jazz's chinguard with his forefinger and thumb.

He tilted Jazz's face from side to side, intently studying the Autobot's features for a long moment now that there wasn't a visor obstructing them before removing his hand from Jazz's back. He then stepped away so that he could near one of the boxes.

"Not that I'm complaining now that I'm going to get it free," Barricade said with his voice carrying clearly through the room as he rummaged through the contents, "but I could really do without that acid mouth."

Barricade stopped when he apparently found what he was looking for and looked up, grinning wolfishly at Jazz. The electro-whip he held was already activated, pale blue sparks flying from the tip of its long tail as he trailed it behind him across the floor.

"Won't you play with me, Autobot?" he purred out and suggestively rubbed the whip's handle against the side of his codpiece. "Designation, rank and number if you please."

Jazz wanted to blurt out _why_ since it was apparent that Barricade knew who he was already, but the smaller mech knew what was going to come next either way. With a roll of his optics, Jazz licked his lips and allowed his body to swing freely from the chains.

"Name is Jazz. Saboteur, I guess. Don't really have a rank. No number."

"Oh come now, you _must_ have some sort of rank…" Barricade said, feigning disappointment.

Barricade transferred the whip's handle from his body to Jazz's instead, and dragged it up the Autobot's torso. The tail continued to crackle with unreleased energy, a scant distance away from Jazz's swaying pedes.

"Let's try a different question – who do you answer to?"

Jazz tightened his lips.

"Uh, well. I guess I answer to Autobot leadership. Most of the time I don't return their calls."

The whip whistled as it sailed through the air before it impacted against Jazz's back plating.

"Bzzt! Wrong answer! _Who_ do you answer to?"

Jazz cried out, his limbs jerking as the fierce and sharp energy ran up and down his body. The internal circuits of his sensor net crackled with the extra charge, and with nothing to ground him, the residual charge was like sticking a knife back into an old wound.

Jazz panted, his head lolling. "I answer to whoever controls the special ops division at that time!"

Barricade's optics darkened, narrowing into gleaming red slits. "Again with the deliberate vagueness."

It was evident that the racer knew his way around a whip. With one swift, fluid motion, he swung his arm up until the tail extended around him in the upswing before throwing his whip-arm forward. The tail looped for a minute moment and it cracked loudly in the room…and against Jazz. Barricade didn't stop there. He repeated this motion several times and at different angles, leaving just enough time between the hits so that Jazz could feel the pain settle fully between each one.

"Give me names! Descriptions!" he bellowed out.

Jazz's fingers were twitching and his head lolled to the side while his vents laboured with the heavy task of keeping his body cool. He gurgled, spiting up mechblood from where he had bitten his glossa.

"Ya got all the information I'm going to give."

Jazz felt Barricade's energy field buzz against him first before he saw his black-and-purple coloured frame come into view.

"Sweet Autobot, the whip's only on medium," Barricade crooned and he didn't even sound angry or frustrated at Jazz's lack of cooperation. "Just one name. You don't have to give me the rest." He swiped the smears of mechblood from around Jazz's lips with his thumb before sticking it into his own mouth to suck it clean. "Mm…rust-lickin' good."

With that, Barricade stepped back again and began to deliver a new set of hits from the small of Jazz's back, all the way down his aft to the back of his thighs. He had upped the power on the electro-whip and it audibly buzzed over his head, the tail already glowing a faint blue as he gave his arm another swing. The whip's tip hit up high, right between Jazz's wheel wells at his shoulders.

The feedback from the newly charged hit sent data flashing through Jazz's optics. He cried out, jerking forward, which only created a slight swinging effect. Jazz swung his legs out as his systems started an imminent purge of all the sensory data.

"I don't got any fuckin' names you don't already know!" Jazz snarled, though half-heartedly. "And I ain't confirming nothing!"

Barricade had stopped and he observed his handiwork with the critical optic of an artist. Scorched marks and lines of gouged metal from where the whip had cut in crisscrossed haphazardly along Jazz's back and down the back of his thighs. He then deactivated the whip and looped it around his arm, stepping up close to Jazz.

"Well, that's alright then…I'm not really interested in all that to be honest. As far as I'm concerned, Soundwave can work for his intel himself," Barricade said, pushing his face in close to the side of Jazz's neck. "But I hafta admit…I am interested in _you_ , sweet thing. You really caught my optic back at that brothel, 'cept I wasn't in the mood to fight Astro just to taste you."

The smell of Jazz's overheated systems was strong; sharp and tart to the senses with the increased flow of coolant and oils. Barricade's vents swivelled open to their widest setting and he inhaled deeply, just to get more of that scent.

"You're from Altihex, right?" he casually asked, as he reached down to finger one of the open wounds that ran down the saboteur's spinal line. "I can hear it in your accent every now and then."

Jazz was continually getting more and more curious about the Decepticon. If his prime objective wasn't to get information valuable to his cause, why bother with rape? It was a pointless means when Jazz wasn't willing to give information through torture, especially when Barricade had so easily given up.

"Born and raised in Altihex," Jazz said, unable to help a bit of pride from creeping into his voice. "If ya wanted me so bad, why didn't you just pay for me? Or are ya just too fuckin' cheap?"

"Was gonna buy you, but then Soundwave comm'ed me about an Autobot spy. And as much as I hate it, I can't disobey him," Barricade said absently.

Jazz jerked, the tips of his pedes scraping loudly across the floor when he felt something wet drag itself up a particularly sore strip along his back. Barricade was licking one of the many wounds he had created, the bitter taste of scorched metal from where the whip had cut into Jazz's plating tingling on the tip of his glossa. His fingers stroked down Jazz's flanks as he moved his attention onto another whip mark, tracing it slowly with his glossa to leave an oily smear behind.

"Had family down in Altihex. Can't say I remember it much before it turned into the dump it is now," he murmured before viciously biting into one of Jazz's altmode wheels.

Jazz writhed, whimpering as he felt Barricade's sharp denta tear into the pliable surface of his wheel. His back plating burned now that the wounds had been cut in his plating. The Autobot twisted, pulling one arm out farther than the other, and with a swing of his hips, violently spun around so he could kick Barricade hard in the side.

"Good for you, Decepticon. Why don't you untie me so I can fight ya? Or are you too cowardlyto give me a fighting chance? You must not know the breed of saboteurs, _mechling,_ because if you did, you know I'd stab your fucking optics out!" Jazz snarled.

Barricade's laugh was loud, its deep tones reverberating around the warehouse's four walls.

"Feisty!" he exclaimed.

Barricade then smacked Jazz so hard across the face that the saboteur twisted around in his chains from the force. Despite the previous laugh, the mirth was now wiped off the Decepticon's face, as if never there. He grabbed Jazz around the waist and lifted him clean off the hook, just to throw him uncaringly on the floor.

"Get up. See that crate there? Walk towards it and lean down against it," he ordered, brandishing the whip at the other mech before gesturing with it towards a sealed crate at the other end of the room.

Jazz groaned. The pressure off of his arms felt good, but the dizziness of the beating was starting to catch up with him. He shifted on the floor and drew his limbs close together as the nausea set in. He crawled forward, optics weary with pain and simultaneous spark ache. The mech carefully gathered himself up, his spark pounding with anxiety as he moved to the area that Barricade had directed. With his hands still bound in front of him, it was nearly impossible to push enough weight behind any attack.

"Aren't ya gonna kill me? Rape, torture… one would think ya almost cared about me," Jazz commented dully.

Barricade didn't answer that. He followed Jazz, wisely keeping some distance between them lest the saboteur was gearing up for an attack. When they neared the crate, he gave the mech in front of him a push, causing him to stumble forward until he was made to bend over it. Barricade wasn't taking any precautions either – he grabbed Jazz's wrists and slammed then down at the far edge of the crate, so that his captive's arms were stretched out in front of him. The cuffs were then promptly magnetized to the crate's surface.

"Legs apart," Barricade instructed, giving the insides of Jazz's pedes a kick, "there's a good mech." He ran the tip of his finger up one of the whip marks he was licking before. "Now… if you're good, I'll kiss these better like I did before… but if you insist on being naughty…" Barricade's voice chilled with the ensuing threat. "I'll add more to your pretty little aft."

 Jazz said nothing, struggling with the magnetized cuffs that were firmly mounted to the large metal crate. It creaked underneath him and he slammed his weight down, hoping it would break.

"C'mon then baby, let's feel your cock if you want me so bad!" Jazz called, staring over his shoulder so he could stare at Barricade. He snapped his denta. "You're a hot mech, won't you make it good for me at least?"

"Who said I was going to fuck you right now?" Barricade snarled out, surprisingly vehement. "If I wanted to fuck you, you little pretend whore, I'd have you cleaned up first and _that_ —" He poked at the underside of Jazz's interface panel, "—thoroughly washed out. Don't like fucking through sloppy seconds, especially _Astrotrain's_ and Primus knows how many you serviced tonight. I'd least want to give your pussy a bit of a chance to tighten up first."

Jazz laughed hard. "What the hell are you!" He then pressed his head against the cold metal. "Do you have some sort of secret crush on me, is that was this is? Are you jealous of Astrotrain? He's really big you know—" Jazz held his hands together in a mock measurement of the circumference, "—and those knots of his feel so _good._ Are you jealous and angry, little mechling Decepticon? C'mon, don't you just want to shove it in? I've got more than one hole!"

"Now why would I be jealous. We just met!" Barricade drawled out. "I told you. I don't like fucking valves filthy with other mechs' transfluid still sloshing inside."

His codpiece clanked up against Jazz's aft when he shoved his hips forward and he leaned down, encompassing the smaller mech completely with his energy field and weight. Deliberately, Barricade ground his hips and torso against the whip cuts, knowing how abrasive his plating would be against them.

"And besides…I got a knot of my own so it's not as if I'm jealous of that stupid Triplechanger's cock or anything," he hissed out, vents exhaling a hot gush of air onto Jazz's sensory horn as he squeezed it hard to yank the other mech's helm back. "But I want to hear you beg for it. You like Decepticon cock doncha? You sound like a bot who likes it rough, otherwise you wouldn't have been such a natural at that brothel. I'm up for a deal though. Interested?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jazz snarled, his mouth open wide to display his shiny sharp denta. "I'm not up for no deals with Decepticons."

Barricade sneered, top lip pulling upwards in such a way that it skewed his attractive features. "Sure you are. Especially when I can – _whoops!—_ let you escape."

He let Jazz's helm drop back down onto the crate and resumed his previous task with licking up the cuts. It was a task that he took his time with; tracing each edge of the raised edges of the wounds where his whip had sliced through and especially paying attention to the ones where the armour was thin, knowing that the sensory net was closer the surface. Barricade's thumbs were pressing down on a pair of symmetrical transformation seams that decorated Jazz's sides, rubbing up and down their lines slowly as he lowered his helm to kiss along a particularly deep welt.

Jazz twisted and peered back at Barricade with a deeper expression, though his optics were still blazing with anger. He moaned breathily, too exhausted to care about anything.

"Why are you doing this? Who are you? What do you want with _me._ "

Barricade's red optics flickered upwards to hold Jazz's gaze. "I told you. I'm Barricade, commander of the Racetrack Patrol," he blithely replied. "And the only thing I want from you is to play with you. Wanted to from the very first moment I saw you."

He bent his knees a little, holding onto Jazz's hips as he lowered his helm to wet the welts he had left down the curved shape of the saboteur's aft. His glossa wriggled up into the widened gap left from where Jazz's thigh connected with his pelvis, slathering the barely reachable cables from within with his oral oils. With a soft scrape, Barricade moved his hands from Jazz's hips and bent them inwards to rub up the saboteur's inner thighs, keeping them from closing as he moved to kiss the smooth metal.

"So are you ready for that deal?"

Jazz made a frustrated noise and even he wasn't entirely sure what he wanted. "I know that your title is," Jazz bit back, "I mean, who _are_ you? Don't give me line of crap like 'I wanted you since I first saw you' because everyone knows that's a bunch of _slag_."

Jazz hesitated as he scraped his pedes along the floor by the crate for balance, his plating crawling with the foreign feeling of Barricade touching him.

"But...what's this deal?"

"I don't understand what you're trying to get at…I told you who I am. Ain't got much of a history if that's what you're seeking," Barricade murmured, pushing his nasal ridge up against the underside of Jazz's interface panel so that he could nuzzle it. "Deal is: I ask you question. You answer it truthfully. I let you go. Simple."

"Oh for fuck's sake, what is with you?" Jazz snapped, swinging his hips out so he could smack Barricade's face. "If you ask me to bond you, forget it. You're loose in the head, okay? Ask your fucking question."

"Don't flatter yourself," Barricade grouched, rubbing at his face where the edge of Jazz's panel hit him square on the cheek arch. With a flick of his wrist, he un-magnetised Jazz's cuffs and flicked the mech over, forcing him to wrap his thighs around Barricade's hips with their panels flush against each other, as if they were going to interface right there and then. "Why are you with the Autobots? The _real_ reason. None of that righteous slag stuff."

"Because being a whore is really righteous," Jazz replied, latching onto Barricade's chassis with his fingertips. "If you _must_ know, I joined because there was an attack in the district where I was working as an Enforcer. My friends were killed, and it was the Decepticons' fault."

Jazz's fingers slipped down the front of Barricade's chassis, weighed down by the heavy cuffs. Barricade stared hard at the Autobot's exposed optics, as if he was seriously thinking over the circumstances that led Jazz to join the Autobots.

"So no inspiring recruitment poster, eh," he mused. "I should let you go, shouldn't I? Deal's a deal right?"

"Let me go and maybe I won't kill you in the middle of the night when you lay your itty bitty CPU down to rest," Jazz snarled, showing his sharp denta.

Barricade smiled at that and Jazz was again dismayed at how similar it was to Meister's. It was with this train of thought that occupied his mind when Barricade leaned down to kiss him. Jazz's mouth moved on its own accord, lips parting as visuals of his bondmate's face dominated his memory. But the touch of Barricade's glossa against his own pulled him out of his nostalgic path and Jazz gasped into his mouth, like his systems were starving suddenly for air.

"I look forward to it, sweet thing," Barricade purred against Jazz's lips.

"Stop, stop!" Jazz yelled. "Let me go!"

"Didn't I promise you that I will?"

There was a dull flash of a blade before Barricade simply sliced through Jazz's secondary energon tube, right at his neck. It bled out all over Barricade's fingers, warm mechblood pulsing out from the clean cut and Barricade didn’t waste time taking it into his mouth. He sucked at the tube, groaning at the taste before spitting it out on Jazz's face after a couple of gulps. He then slammed a communicator unit on the crate, next to Jazz's head.

Jazz gurgled, his blue optics wide as he reached up to clutch his throat. The hot liquid quickly leaked through his fingers, spilling out below.

"Your cuffs will unlock automatically on their own so I hope your comrades come to your rescue soon, or else you might not have enough strength to get your aft to a medical centre," Barricade said and he wiped his bloodied mouth clean with the back of his hand. "I'll see you soon, pretty baby."

Barricade clicked his glossa lewdly at Jazz and promptly left. But before he did so, he took the discarded visor as a souvenir. 


	2. Chapter 2

_The berth blankets were soft and comfortable, the high-quality metalomesh folding warmly around the bodies of his and his bondmate's. The sparkling nestled between them clicked rapidly, excited and bright optic'ed at the sight of both his creators next by his side._

_"You know…it's uh, good to have you here. Given the social unrest and all, I know how hard it was to get that time off," Meister murmured with a small smile, his own purple optics fondly gazing at Jazz._

_Jazz laughed and shifted his legs closer to Meister's, deliberately pushing the edge of his shin plating until it caught against Meister's. He grinned and coquettishly averted his own gaze down to the sweet face of their sparkling's._

_"Yeah well… figured you'd appreciate all the bootplate lickin' I had to do to get this leave. I think the section chief hates me more now than he already does."_

_"But it was worth it," Meister insisted. "Wasn't it?"_

_"You kiddin' me? Pass up the chance to spend some quality time with you?"_

_Their sparkling trilled, as if indignant that Jazz had forgotten to mention him. Jazz cooed out an apology and caught a wayward arm in his much larger servo before it smacked into his chassis._

_"Demanding lil' slagger, isn't he?" Jazz teasingly chastised. "Just like his sire. Seems like our lil' Runner here inherited everything from you. From your bad-boy mech looks to your obnoxiously charming personality."_

_Meister was smiling fully now. "You say that like it's a bad thing."_

_It wasn't. Jazz loved everything about Meister. He opened his mouth to demand a kiss from his bondmate, but paused when he noticed a small patch of dirt on Meister's cheek. Jazz reached out to wipe it off. The moment he touched the other mech's face, he reflexively yanked his hand away from the sharp pain._

_He had been burned._

_Jazz frowned and looked back at Meister. There was something seriously wrong with his bondmate's face; the smooth dermalplating was now flaking and blackening rapidly before his optics and Jazz watched in horror as the mech in front of him abruptly caught fire. Panic and agony gripped his spark and as Jazz flung his arms forward to save his family, he found himself falling forward until the scene rapidly changed around him. He was now outside of their blazing neighbourhood, screaming and crying as others held him back. Gone was the warm comfortable berth. The flames of the burning housing units seared his sensornet, leaving him frustratingly weak._

_"Meister! Runner!" he wailed feverishly. "I can save them! Fucking let me go!"_

_"They're gone!" someone was yelling in his audio. "There's no one left!"_

_Jazz began to choke from the smoke and anguish._

When Jazz woke up from that reoccurring nightmare, he immediately sat up and hunched his shoulders inwards in an attempt to calm his systems down. It was difficult; his mind refused to settle down and the acrid, oily smoke from that spark-wrenching cycle all those vorns ago still clung to his memory banks like the clutches of a virus that continued to slowly eat at him. Jazz could barely stop himself from whimpering, unable to stop his spark rolling in grief and guilt around a bond that no longer existed.

As that horrible memory slowly ebbed away, replaced by the cold starkness of reality instead, Jazz finally found the strength to wrench himself out from his lonely berth and onto his pedes. The choking sensation was still there – though this time it was perpetuated by the still-healing wound around his throat.

"Fucking Decepticon," he muttered hatefully as he padded out to his grimy little washrack.

It had cost a pretty credit, calling the emergency services over to fix him up before he bled all over the place. It wasn't even worth it – they had taken their sweet time and had Barricade cut Jazz's main energon line instead, the medics would have been too late to reach Jazz before his cpu fried from the lack of coolant to his head and energon to his spark. It wasn't as if he could have called the Autobots for assistance anyway, given his incognito status and everything.

When the washrack control unit refused to acknowledge his command, Jazz slammed the back of his fist against it. Luckily the unit seemed to respond to the violence, but still managed to have the last laugh by dumping a load of freezing-cold solvent all over Jazz instead.

 

 

* * *

 

With a patch on his neck that made it plainly obvious his throat had been slashed, Jazz swung his hips wide and smiled his best sultry smile at a group of Decepticons who were too busy roaring around a small fighting ring. Two medium-sized mechs were inside fighting – much to Jazz's disinterest. A large femme was looking him over and he flashed his yellow visor at her for the attention, making the future invitation open.

But with two cups of energon in his hands, he had little time to play. Jazz artfully dodged some lecherous touches and rowdy mechs, making his way back up to one of the VIP boxes. His doorwings were normally tucked into his chassis, but this time he had them out, their long and broad shape swaying behind him. Jazz chimed the room and the door opened for him, revealing Motormaster and his subordinate Dragstrip. Jazz strolled inside and bowed as he placed Motormaster's drink on a tray next to him, before turning towards Dragstrip to give the mech his drink as well.

"C'mere slut," Motormaster grunted, reaching out to pull on a doorwing so that Jazz could splay across his lap. "I paid for you, might as well get more use out of you."

"Of course, master," Jazz purred.

He shifted, sliding his fingers along Motormaster's thick codpiece. Jazz could practically feel the heat boiling off of the mech and he did his best to not inspire the Decepticon's notorious ire. But then, Motormaster suddenly jumped up and _yelled_ , causing Jazz to topple off of his lap into a heap on the floor.

Dragstrip snickered.

"Get in there and fight! Fight, you slagtard!" Motormaster snarled at the window that offered a clear view to the pair fighting below.

The massive Decepticon reached down and pulled Jazz up off from the floor and onto his knees. Jazz found himself looking at Motormaster's opening interface panel and the impressively large spike that sprang out right after. The thick shaft was long, and the ridged head was flared wide. A clear bead of precum had welled in the slit, making it clear just _how_ much Motormaster enjoyed watching fights.

Jazz needed no more prompting than that. He opened his mouth and slid his glossa around the head, latching his denta loosely past the first main ridge so he could lavish the slit with attention. Then he accepted the rest of the spike inside, oral oils leaking down his chin as he slowly engulfed all of it. A bulge could be seen in his throat and he moaned around it before bobbing his head up and down.

Motormaster groaned and placed a heavy hand on Jazz's head. "Oh this bitch can suck cock."

"I want a go at him next," Dragstrip whined, extending his own spike so that he could stroke it in his hand.

Motormaster pushed Jazz back against the glass, tilting his hips back so he could slide his spike forward. He did it again, this time with much more force, and Jazz's helm actually smacked the glass. He growled a warning, but all Motormaster did was smirk down at him.

"Not on my time you aren't," Motormaster snarled at Dragstrip. "You pay for your own slut. This one is mine."

Jazz wanted to remind Motormaster that he only had half a joor left, but he remained silent. He grasped Motormaster's hip with one hand and buried the other between his own legs into his slowly slickening valve for Dragstrip's benefit. The Decepticon had tilted over to get a good view of the folds Jazz was fingering while he jerked himself off.

Jazz flinched when a particularly fierce thrust pushed at the mediocre patch along his neck. Raw pain flared and his throat constricted tightly around Motormaster's large spike. The Stunticon Leader groaned, speeding up, and at the last moment he pulled his spike out of Jazz's throat so he could splash hot transfluid all over the saboteur's face.

Motormaster sat back down with a lazy grunt, his spike half-retracted. Jazz reached up to wipe the cum off his face, but the Decepticon hissed in response, so he dropped the cloth.

Dragstrip then threw a few credit chips at him. "Finish me off."

Jazz grabbed the chips from the floor and shoved them in his subspace before he crawled over. He was about to lean forward for another blowjob when Dragstrip patted the top of his leg with a hand.

"No, no. Up here. I want to feel that wet little pussy of yours."

"That'll cost you another fifty credits," Jazz deadpanned.

With an irritated snarl, Dragstrip tossed more chips at Jazz. The gold-and-purple coloured saboteur picked them up and then crawled up on the Decepticon's lap, stretching his chassis and flaring his doorwings.

"Sure baby. I'll do anything for the credits," Jazz whispered in a sultry tone.

Motormaster guffawed. "Fucking whore."

Jazz ignored the jibe and reached down to rub the folds of his valve with two fingers, spreading them open so Dragstrip could get a nice look. With any luck, the Stunticon wouldn't require much to cum. He then pushed his hips forward and sunk himself down on Dragstrip, shivering as the intrusive member pushed the walls of his valve apart.

"Ahh," Jazz moaned as he started to gyrate his hips, working side-to-side so that the flared head could brush up against his rarely touched ribbing. Hot lubricant leaked out, dripping onto Dragstrip's lap and on the chair. "Oh Primus baby, that feels good," Jazz whispered as he fitted his legs tighter around Dragstrip's waist.

It wasn't all that great but Jazz certainly wasn't going to tell Dragstrip that. He was still turned on, still sexually frustrated from having to service Motormaster. At least he'd be able to get himself off using Dragstrip's…asset. It did have a nice head on it after all; best get the most out of it.

He tilted his hips backwards, supporting himself on the chair's arm so that the tip of the Stunticon's spike dragged across the cluster of nodes along his upper valve channel. Dragstrip beneath him was bucking his hips, his optics flickering with pleasure and his mouth was moving, mouthing random words.

Jazz hissed through his denta and threw his helm back, wincing at the pull of his neck. "Oh yeah, baby, getting close…that's it, shove it in me hard!"

The praise was what Dragstrip needed to overload and the rush of hot transfluid was what Jazz needed to follow in his overload. He keened thinly in his throat, feeling his valve spasm tightly around Dragstrip's spike.

"You're really good at this," Dragstrip mumbled, leaning back in his chair all relaxed with a lax smile on his face.

Jazz gave Dragstrip a simpering look and was ready to climb off from the slowly-retracting spike when the door to their private room opened. Motormaster immediately snarled at the intrusion.

"Told you cretins that I didn't wanna be—"

Motormaster's irate expression twisted further and intensified.

"What the fuck do you want?!"

It was Barricade and he didn't appear all that pleased himself. He began to stomp towards the self-proclaimed King of the Road with his energy field buzzing around him like a storm.

"You tell your _cretin_ subordinate Wildrider—" Barricade darkly growled out,"— that the next time he breaches my territory and picks a fight with my mechs that I will personally chase him down and pull out his exhaust from his mouth. Got that?"

Jazz's visor flared angrily and he clambered off of Dragstrip's lap before he was pushed off. Predictably, Dragstrip sprang up along with Motormaster.

"Oh yeah? Big fuckin' deal. Get lost before I wipe you across the fuckin' floor."

Jazz was trying his best to blend in with the furniture. He crouched down behind a chair and wiped at his face and the insides of his legs with a rag. Jazz's hips were dented from Dragstrip's hands and he angrily rubbed down the scratch marks as best as he could. Then he stood up and drained Dragstrip's cup of energon while the Decepticon's back was to him. Jazz pointedly avoided looking at Barricade and he skirted the edge of the room, hunkering towards the corner.

Unfortunately, Barricade had the only exit blocked. Barricade's optics flickered over towards Jazz's direction, though he made no indication of whether he recognised the saboteur or not.

"Give me a break, Motormaster," Barricade snorted, folding his arms across his chest. "I warned you once, I warned you twice, I warned you _thrice._ I don't see my mechs going into your territory so you better tell yours to stay the frag outta mine!" he finished off, his voice rising up to a crescendo as he rapped at his chestplate angrily.

"My team can go wherever—"

Barricade interrupted the rest of Motormaster's retort. "You're too fucking incompetent as a leader – can't even keep your own team in line. I demand compensation."

Motormaster gave a toothy grin. "Mine go wherever they feel like it because Megatron's given us the right. Or haven't you heard? He recently assigned us patrol over your area _and_ my own because your team has a habit of... heh, keeping important information to themselves."

Jazz couldn't help a tiny smirk. _That_ was his doing.

"So before you go talkin' incompetent... why don't you look back at yourself and get the fuck out of here," Motormaster finished.

"I'm not talking about _that_ territory, you buffoon," Barricade snapped. "I'm talking about what I won off from Crasher. Unlike you, I do keep up to date with the slag that goes on around here." He then held his hands out in a mocking gesture of helplessness. "But hey, if you wanna continue hiding behind Megatron, I don't mind. I mean, I'd challenge you to fight it out there in the ring but I'm sure you'd refuse. All that crowd, all that peer pressure…must be daunting."

Motormaster snarled. "I don't give a fuck where Wildrider goes and you aren't getting any compensation! Get out of here you scrap pile, you don't have _anything_ I could want for a fight! Bunch of fuckin' hopped up racers!"

Jazz stood up and slowly started to edge out of the room. Motormaster's time was already out and the last thing he wanted was to be in the room with Barricade for one more astrosecond. But not only would Barricade not budge, he also threw a subtle glare towards Jazz's direction that confirmed his sinking suspicions that in fact yes, Barricade had recognised him.

"Hm…really?" Barricade scoffed and inspected the tips of his claws. "'Cause I know that my Groundhog's got a boxful of Autobot parts he likes collecting. Including the entire right leg plating and two fingers off from a certain Optimus Prime."

Motormaster's helm shot up with interest at that. Barricade's red optics, cunning and knowing, flickered to stare at Motormaster directly in the face.

"And I _know_ how much you'd like that certain piece," Barricade continued with a smirk. "So if you win, you get that, the territory I got from Crasher and my personal promise that I won't bitch at you about the matter ever again."

Motormaster seriously seemed to consider the offer. He stroked over his arm with one hand before motioning for Dragstrip to back off.

"Alright, fine. And if I lose, I presume you want me to keep off of your territory, and push out of mine?"

"Nah keep your territory. Just stay the fuck out of mine or I'll have you suck my cock in public. But uh…just keeping out of my territory ain't enough. Not with what I'm offering you so… uh…"

Barricade looked around the room, pondering what else would balance out the deal. His optics fell on Jazz.

"That one," Barricade declared, pointing at the disguised mech. "That's your favourite, right? I get exclusive use of the contract you have with him. So whatever you prepaid for him gets transferred onto me if I win the fight."

Jazz's visor flared and his mouth fell open. "No fuckin' way! I struck up a contract with Motormaster, _not_ you!"

"What's your problem?" Barricade complained testily at Jazz. "You're still getting paid. It's just gonna be a different cock for you to bounce on at the end of the day."

"Obviously I do background checks," Jazz muttered moodily, while he unconsciously rubbed at the poorly patched wound on his neck.

"Shut up!" Motormaster growled at Jazz.

Jazz's jaw clicked shut and he opted to glare daggers at Barricade instead.

Motormaster rubbed at his chin. "Fine. No weapons, no tricks or blades. One-on-one. In case you haven't noticed, the ring is occupied. Let's go out back. And _you_ —" he snarled, pointing at Jazz, "—come with me."

Then the big mech marched out of the room past Barricade. Jazz followed behind Dragstrip, pausing next to Barricade as the other two Decepticons turned down a hallway.

"What the hell is with you?!" Jazz snarled. "If you want to rape or kill me, just try to do it already!"

The corners of Barricade's thin mouth tugged upwards into a slight smile at that.

 "Don't want to kill you. Not really. I just really fancy you, that's all," he whispered as he leaned down, hand reaching for the area on Jazz's back plating, right where one of the welts used to be.

Barricade then straightened himself up and pushed Jazz forward, forcing him to move so that the other two wouldn't get suspicious that they weren't being followed.

There was still a fight going on at the arena and the sounds of cheering and booing was positively deafening to their audios. There were tables and benches surrounding the fighting ring, filled with various Decepticons watching the current fight. Two mechs were already grappling with each other and both were dented heavily. Barricade and Jazz bypassed the entire arena, taking the far-east walkway that led outside.

It was cold. There was an influx of pressurised nitrogen in the air over the general Kaon area, pressed down by layers of other gases that made up Cybertron's atmosphere. Though for a mech like Motormaster who carried heavier armour than the rest, he remained largely unaffected by the temperature change.

Barricade puffed out his plating and turned to face the Stunticon leader. From the shadows, the three members of his team materialised as if magically summoned.

"No weapons right?" Barricade confirmed, disconnecting the various modifications to his frame that made up his weaponry – including one nasty-looking slicer unit – so that he could hand them over safely to one of his team members.

Jazz had wandered over to Motormaster, looking thoroughly bored with the entire event. He stared out beyond to the highway rail that was above them with mechs in their altmodes thundering past.

"Right," Motormaster said gruffly as he handed a few of his own to Dragstrip.

Jazz already knew Motormaster was going to lose. On a battlefield that was more open, with proper weapons he would have won, but in this environment he was much too big and slow. His legs weren't long and small enough to make him nimble and his armour was too thick. By the look of it, Barricade knew this as well.

Motormaster stepped forward into an open space with Barricade and shifted his legs apart, drawing one hand up. He charged forward and then dashed to the right, lashing out with a low kick with his right leg that Barricade had more than enough time to slide away from. Otherwise the power that Motormaster was putting behind his kick would have completely incapacitated Barricade.

Barricade bent his knee and kicked out, tip of his pede pointing slightly inwards so that he could hit Motormaster with the heel of his stabiliser. It didn't do much good – as big and hefty as Motormaster was. He just grunted, stumbled slightly and recovered fast enough to swing a punch of his own. Barricade dodged to the side but couldn't completely avoid the blow; it glanced off his right shoulder, sending him spiralling towards the wall. By now it was evident to all watching that Motormaster and momentum made a deadly combination, despite his general lack of nimbleness.

Barricade pushed himself off the wall, trying to get himself back to open space because it would have been suicide for Motormaster to corner him there. His optics focused around the Stunticon's neck area and he hissed with annoyance when he saw that Motormaster wisely had the entire area covered with protective plating. No throat-tube ripping this time.

Growling, Motormaster barrelled forward again and Barricade risked himself from being mowed down by moving away the last possible moment. It was a rather clumsy manoeuvre and he was barely able to twist himself away in time but he did manage to do what he was aiming for – trip up Motormaster.

The massive mech crashed down with a loud clang.

As hydraulics hissed and pressurised with Motormaster trying to stand up swiftly enough. Barricade beat him to it and literally body-slammed him down. It wasn't going to work, not with Barricade weighing next to nothing in comparison to Motormaster. But Barricade had already slapped his hands around Motormaster's helm to dig the tips of his claws into the mech's optical covers, shattering them and damaging the iris mechanisms inside.

"Concede or else I dig my fingers in further and your optics get damaged permanently," Barricade warned quietly, ventilations coming fast.

Jazz secretly wished Barricade just would do it anyway because the curdling scream mixed with an outraged yell Motormaster was making was enough to hurt his audios.

"Fine!" Motormaster snarled, his much larger hands grabbing Barricade's forearms to fling the smaller mech off. He staggered up, rubbing furiously at his face as mechblood began to leak down from his damaged optics. He then kicked over a small ticket booth, sending a drone scurrying away. "This isn't over!"

Dragstrip glared from Barricade to Jazz before quickly following Motormaster.

"Interesting," Jazz intoned, as if it was anything but. "I'll send you a full pricing guide for my fees, plus all the extra charges for making me switch my contract to someone else. Who knew that sex contracts were actual legal documents in Kaon?" Jazz finished, still obviously bored.

"Trust me, it's a good thing," Barricade grunted as clipped his weaponry back into his frame. "Better legalise it and give them some rights since they're going to do it anyway." He gave Jazz the triumphant smirk of a mech who won a prize and grabbed him by the wrist, giving him a little yank towards him so that he could embrace him with one arm around the waist. "So what sort of things did Motormaster pay for with you?"

"For sex," Jazz said, yanking his arm back. "Oral and valve are standard, naturally. Waste valve is more expensive and costs extra, which Motormaster bought for one session every week. Anything beyond that you're paying the base price for plus the extra fee for the service. Threesomes or orgies cost extra too," Jazz muttered, glancing over once at Barricade's teammates. "Any special kink including sadomasochism and beyond is going to cost you extra as well. Plus I'm charging you now for ruining _my fucking neck!_ " Jazz angrily pointed at the patched wound. "All damage to my body comes out of your credit account."

"I did not ruin your neck, you devious little bitch," Barricade snarled. "I ruined an Autobot's neck." He leaned down a little so that he could push his nasal ridge against Jazz's face-to-face. "You're not an Autobot are you? 'Cause if you are then as a Decepticon commander, I'm gonna take you in for a nice little interrogation session."

Jazz balked, though his glare was none less heated. "I'll get you to pay for it, _baby,_ one way or another. I accept prepayment only after Motormaster's contract is finished, and prepayment for services outside of his contract. Get used to putting credits in my account, fraghole."

In response, Barricade smirked and his subordinates waved at their commander as they went back inside to enjoy the pleasure models that were still available. For now, it was just Barricade and Jazz outside.

"Somehow I got a feeling that I'm going to be spending all my credits on you for all the kinky stuff I wanna do to you," Barricade mused, deliberately annoying Jazz by tickling him under the chin. He turned to the side, ready to step into the building and looked over his shoulder from the edge of one wheel fairing. "C'mon, sweet stuff. I want to enjoy my prize." His gaze dropped down to Jazz's pedes and quickly swept up to the tip of his sensory horns. "I got my own room booked. Go wash up – I can't stand the smell of that Stunticon stink on you. Then come find me."

With a cheeky click of his vocaliser, Barricade stepped through the doorway and disappeared inside.

"Fuck you!" Jazz snarled to the shut door. With an angry grimace, Jazz stormed off inside the complex through a different door, this one used primarily by pleasurebots. There were berths for sleeping, shower racks, cosmeticians, even a few nurses. Jazz went into the shower racks and activated a scorching blast of water so he could furiously scrub at himself with some solvent and a brush.

"Who does he think he is!" Jazz snarled to himself as steam wafted up.

Jazz washed down every inch of his body before opening his panel to rub a cloth over his interface. The mech reached into his subspace for a large syringe, which was filled with a solvent that would dissolve lubricant and transmetal fluid. With a wince he pressed it up into his valve and squirted the fluid, cleaning his valve from his previous clients.

With a final rinse, Jazz stomped out and stood under the blower until he was barely dry. He smoothed a light sheen of oil over his plating with a cloth, then left the washracks to access the console just outside the door. He looked up Barricade's room, which was a nice-sized pleasure room overlooking the ring. It was also _very_ expensive.

"Figures," Jazz muttered.

He went through security so he could access the pleasure rooms and boarded a lift that went to the floor Barricade was on. Outside of the Decepticon's door he rang a chime and then entered. Barricade was watching the fight below. Jazz entered, rounding the room so he could kneel next to the Decepticon's chair.

"I have cleaned myself as you have requested."

"Much better," Barricade said approvingly.

He patted his knee, obviously wanting Jazz to get on his lap. Jazz had no choice but to obey and as soon as he threw a leg over the mech's thigh, Barricade's palms slid underneath his aft so that he could position Jazz the way he wanted.

"You shouldn't look so sour," Barricade murmured as he gave the base of Jazz's patched throat an apologetic kiss. "Unlike Motormaster and his band of merry crazies, I actually enjoy watching my lovers overload with the pleasure I give them."

Out beyond the viewing glass, one of the arena fighters managed to get the better of his opponent and Barricade hissed with sympathy. With the fight now over, Barricade then focused his attention back onto Jazz's visor, and his optics darkened into a deep crimson, flickering in such a way that the glow seemed almost liquid.

"I'll even drop a titbit of information here and there just to make it worthwhile for you," he offered, his wide mouth pulling a little to form a faint smirk.

"Really? Are you talking to the whore or the Autobot?" Jazz asked a bit more gruffly than he intended. His tone was laden with disbelief. "I'm sure that information will only be the most accurate and trustworthy."

Jazz shifted his hips on Barricade's lap, drawing his arms up in the air to stretch them out so he could show off the curve of his chassis. He wrapped his arms loosely around the Decepticon's neck and shoulders.

"Why don't you hurry up and get your cock out," Jazz prompted.

That wiped Barricade's smirk away. "I'm afraid the _whore_ will have to enjoy some foreplay with his client," he said waspishly.

His long fingers – thankfully they were clean now – tapped along Jazz's sides until they found the base of his doorwings. Unlike standard Praxian doorwings, mechs from Altihex who were created with such appendages had a much more complicated hinge system that allowed them to be folded into their chassis when the occasion called for it. In Jazz's case, his hinge framework extended further outward from his back and Barricade took full advantage of that. He rubbed the thin struts and applied gentle pressure against the joints, so that he could massage the tucked away energon lines and sensors.

Jazz made sure to tilt his wing in such a way that he pinched the probing fingers and Barricade hissed, snatching them away. With an unapologetic smile, he stood, pacing around Barricade seated form so he could look at the mech up and down. He stopped in front of Barricade and bent over, displaying his shapely aft and the very underside of his panel.

"So the mysterious Decepticon desires me, huh? Somehow I find that you're keeping your real reasons to yourself," Jazz said as he turned around so he could climb back onto Barricade's lap.

With a spin of his hips he turned, gyrating them up and down while he brushed his back and doorwings against the front of Barricade's chassis. Jazz threw his head back, kissing the mech's throat and sharp jawline.

"You must wanna fuck me then. Did you go home and stroke your cock after you slit my throat? Did it... make you feel good?" Jazz whispered huskily as he reached down to rub his servos along Barricade's panel. "Did you want to fuck me while I held my throat and the blood leaked out from between my fingers?"

Barricade's answer was a sharp intake of air and a deep rev of his powerful engine. He bucked his own hips upwards to Jazz's movements before sliding his aft further down on his seat, so that it was perched close to the edge.

"Oh you tasted _so_ good," the racer whispered in return, grabbing Jazz's thighs so that he could hold them astride over his own lap. "It made my transfluid boil for you."

The two mechs were only faintly reflected off from the viewing pane right in front of them but it was enough to see the cables and joints stretched between the gaps of Jazz's thighs from where Barricade had pushed them wide apart. Barricade watched as he pressed his wet lips against the side of Jazz's cheek, right up to the corner of the Autobot's mouth.

Now that Jazz had discovered one of Barricade's weaknesses, he moaned quickly and tilted his head away so that the mech couldn't kiss his lips. Jazz would not allow it just yet. However he did grab Barricade's hands, pushing the Decepticon's fingers over the circles of his headlights, cupping his chassis.

"Angry too? I like it when angry Decepticons take out their frustrations on me... especially when they have big cocks and quick tempers. There's nothing like the rough fucking," Jazz murmured as he directed Barricade's hands lower on his body. "I may only be a whore, but I have needs too."

Undeterred, Barricade simply busied himself with Jazz's neck. He kissed the warm tubing and nipped at the edges of the patch, up to the underside of Jazz's strong jawline. His hands slid down the saboteur's abdominal plating, teasingly scratching at the armour, all the way to the rapidly heating interface panel.

"I'm not an angry mech, sweet thing," Barricade murmured, voice muffled. "It makes me lose control of myself and I hate it when that happens.

Jazz made a simpering noise. "Fine. Replace 'angry' with 'passionate' and I'm sure you can't disagree to that. Or maybe you have a thing for Autobot pussy?" Jazz questioned as he pushed his back plating harder against Barricade's chassis and opened his own panel.

Barricade barked out a laugh and shook his helm to himself, as if something that Jazz said was particularly amusing. "No, not particularly. I go for whatever catches my optic."

Jazz let Barricade's hands go, knowing full well that the mech would want to touch his valve how he wanted. Then he bent forward, pushing his legs along Barricade's so he could suspend himself with his hands on the floor, giving the mech a perfect view of his interface.

The position Jazz had manoeuvred himself into was quite revealing, especially since it gave Barricade full access to his aft. Predictably, Jazz's valve was the first thing that Barricade reached down to touch. He was careful at first, his fingers rubbing across the delicate folds that surrounded the valve opening.  They parted easily to his touch, their smooth surface sliding across his fingertips and if he was bothered by the faded latticework of scarring that ran across them, he didn't say anything.

Finally he pressed back the folds to fully expose the opening and despite Dragstrip's earlier fucking, it still looked small and tight. He licked his lips, frame heating up with desire at the sight of it and traced the slightly raised rim with his finger. It was obvious that it was recently cleansed because it was still dry to the touch and there was hardly any scent of fresh lubricant to entice him just yet.

"You have such a finely crafted interface," Barricade complimented with a purr.

"I'm not a fuckin' street urchin," Jazz replied in annoyance as he tilted his upper body to gaze back at Barricade, rubbing a hand over his aft. "Under this worn armor is a sturdy Altihexian frame. All my inner parts are top of the line," he finished, unable to help a bit of smugness from creeping into his voice. With an acrobatic move, Jazz twisted his hips and reversed his position – his back and doorwings on the floor while he pushed his hips and legs up so he could spread the folds of his valve open.

"Doesn't big bad Decepticon want to touch?"

Another deep rev resonated through both their frames and Barricade actually growled out loud, the gritty sound of it rumbling out of his vocaliser.

"Of course I want to fucking touch!"

Barricade slid off the seat straight after Jazz and pushed the chair further behind him to make himself more room. He then hunched forward, bringing his head down to the space between Jazz's spread legs. With a scrape against the floor from where he adjusted his position, Barricade threw Jazz's thighs over his forearms so that he could raise the other mech's hips for a better angle. He parted his lips and sucked at the folds, coating them with his oral oils. They pressed wetly against his lips as he played with them with his glossa, tugging on them lightly.

Jazz instantly melted into the touch, his dim yellow-coloured visor flickering in the light. He moaned breathily, passing one hand over his chassis to pull back the folds of his valve so Barricade could have better access. The valve opening twitched and clenched in on itself as the Decepticon lapped at it with the flat of his glossa, making sure to tease its rim while he licked around it.

"I wasn't aware Decepticons knew how to eat pussy," Jazz commented. "I thought you all were much more brutish when it came to these things."

Barricade paused to chuckle and it vibrated against Jazz's sensitive components. "Don't think so low of us…we're more adept lovers than you think. To those that we want to show off that is."

His glossa flicked outwards, licking Jazz's fingers before he concentrated his efforts on one of the anterior sensor nodes that rested just inside the valve rim. He suckled on it for a long moment and then contoured his mouth around the opening, pushing his glossa as far inside as it would go. It wriggled against Jazz's inner walls and swirled around, gathering the emerging lubricant so that he could draw it back into his own mouth. He pulled away slightly to speak.

"A lot of us younger mechs are actually trained in this. We learn to respect our elders in this way," Barricade further explained and made sure to retract his dangerous claws so that he could ease in a single finger into Jazz's valve.

"A Decepticon from Altihex is unusual enough, but one who follows the old traditions?" Jazz quietly said, passing his hands over his rounded headlights for his own benefit. "You are certainly an oddity...and I do miss Altihex."

Barricade's optics dimmed at Jazz's words. "I can't say I remember much about Altihex," he murmured after a long moment. "I do have vague memories about that crystal garden centre though… but no, I'm really not all that traditionalist. My caretaker was though."

He then lowered his gaze down to the sight of his finger slowly sliding in and out of Jazz's valve before he bowed his helm again to pass his glossa over the area. When he pushed a second finger inside, he used it to stretch open the opening slightly, just so he could thrust his glossa in between his digits.

Barricade's unoccupied arm reached forward, lifting the thigh that was draped over it high enough so his fingers could reach the recessed head of Jazz's spike. He rubbed the tip with his thumb in a tight circle and pinched it lightly, encouraging it to extend in his waiting hand. Jazz gasped and pushed his hips up, allowing his spike to extend fully – something which he had not done in the company of a client or lover in a long time. Usually he was forced to jerk off back in his ratty apartment in the southern district. Decepticons bought time to spike, not to be spiked.

"You are the most confusing mech I have ever met," Jazz admitted, his voice thin with undeniable pleasure.

With a whimper, Jazz squeezed the base of his spike hard, enjoying the thick thrill of pleasure and pain that resulted. The shaft bore obvious signs of abuse – thin lines of sharp denta marks dotted the surface, along with other scarring that looked self-inflicted. Jazz wet his fingers with his own lubricant, then proceeded to rub the head of his cock with the pad of his thumb.

"No, no…hands off," Barricade insisted, pulling Jazz's hand off his spike.

"But—"

"I want you to enjoy what I give you," he husked out, optics burning like deep embers when he glanced over the rounded curve of Jazz's chestplate.

Before Jazz could form more protest, Barricade engulfed his spike completely in his warm, wet mouth. He sucked firmly on the shaft, pressing his inner lips against it as his oral oils ran down its ribbed underbelly to pool around the housing.

Lubricant coated his fingers and the more he thrust into Jazz's yielding valve, the louder the wet noises of suction became. He twisted his wrist, crooking his fingers upwards to rub at the back of Jazz's inner walls to stimulate the embedded sensors that ran within the soft lining.

Jazz couldn't help the pleased gasps that poured out of his vocalizer. He squeezed the inner walls of his valve tightly, constricting them around Barricade's fingers. Lubricant leaked out freely and the heat around the head of his spike was even more pleasurable. Jazz drew his hand down, squeezing tightly around until the pain was too much to bear.

"C'mon baby, don't you want to shove it in me?" Jazz said in a thick tone as he nibbled at his bottom lip. "Please? Paying or not, I'm aching to take it, sweetspark."

Barricade hissed through his denta when Jazz's valve squeezed around his fingers again, trapping them inside the slick heat. He gave the tip of Jazz's cock a brief suck, scraping it teasingly with the edges of his denta just to give Jazz the sting that he needed before he sat up.

"You sure?" he asked as pulled his fingers out of Jazz's valve with a wet squelch.  He popped the lubricant-wet fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean. "I get off just fine when I watch my lovers cum."

It was then that the Decepticon sent the command to retract his own interface panel. Engravings covered the thin surface of his housing and when his spike extended, the engravings extended along with it. Along Barricade's shaft, where the ridges smoothed down at the sides, there was also a long line of raised bead modifications that would ensure either a very painful interface or a very pleasurable one, depending on how willing his partner was. What was most impressive however was the thick bundle of energon tubes wounding around his lower shaft, sitting just shy from the housing of his cock.

The tubing had already begun to weigh his cock down from its flexible base, visibly swelling with the increase of pumped energon. It was exhilarating just to watch.

"A knot?" Jazz questioned, though he already knew the answer. "If you're gonna knot me, you'd better have the time paid up for it. I'm not going to be forced to stay on you because of it, and not get paid. I've had knots before and clients tend to use them as a way to squirt more cum in me for free. I fell for that trick once," he finished off somewhat apprehensively.

Barricade gave a wry smile and rubbed his thumb along the raised protrusions as he gave his spike a loving stroke. "Don't give me that look, like you're going to be cheated out of your well-deserved credits. I'm not that sort of client. They won't swell up any more than this unless I give the command and that's only if you want it."

Barricade then let go of his spike and it hung heavily between his legs as he leaned forward again, to continue licking Jazz's interface. His glossa darted out to swipe up the bit of lubricant that had pooled around the saboteur's valve folds. But then Jazz slid his fingers down to block access to his interface and he refused to move them. Barricade looked up, questioningly.

"Stop licking... I don't want to cum already, and I feel like I'm not doing my job properly and that it's going to bite me in the aft later."

Barricade frowned and straightened his shoulders as he sat up again. "What's your deal? I'm paying you to do thi—hey!"

With an almighty push, Jazz threw Barricade onto his back so he could crawl on to the Decepticon's lap. "You don't let me touch myself, then all you're concerned about is giving me oral," Jazz said a bit curiously. "I have to wonder..."

Jazz took Barricade's impressive cock in his hand, getting a feel for the ridges and the beads that protruded along the sides, knowing that they would provide a great deal of texture and stimulation. Jazz slid down, his hand pressing into Barricade's abdomen while he took the thick shaft into his mouth.

"There's nothing to wonder about," Barricade gasped out with a stuttering rev of his engine.

His hand clamped down onto the top of Jazz's helm, legs sliding apart so that he could sit up and watch Jazz suck him off. It was an arousing sight, watching his spike disappear past the Autobot's plump lips, and feel the slick glossa caress it and cover it with oral oils. Barricade's mouth went slack and the pleasure made it seem as if the struts of his neck simply vanished, causing him to roll his helm to the side.

"Won't you bite it a little," he pleaded, with a low voice.

Jazz didn't reply – he couldn't, not with the way he was servicing Barricade so vigorously. He did as the Decepticon had asked, pushing his lower jaw back so he could slide his sharp denta along the ridges. With a gasp he allowed the thick shaft to slide out of his mouth, wet and sticky.

"Bite it?" Jazz asked.

"Yes, bite it."

With a smile, Jazz leaned down and swirled his glossa around the bulbous head, eagerly sucking up precum so he could then rake his denta along the outside of the shaft, biting down to pinch the modified textured beads. Then he drew his hand down, fingers finding the moderately swollen knot for a squeeze. The knot reacted to Jazz's touch by filling up with more energon, growing a little bit more.

"It's so nice and thick... and the modifications are very impressive. No bondmates?" Jazz lightly enquired.

Barricade licked his lips and leaned further back. "No. Too young, too busy to look—oh, _oh_ keeping doing that!"

The Decepticon's entire shaft twitched when Jazz nipped at one of the upper ridges. Below the decorated housing, a glimmer of lubricant could be seen collecting around the protective folds of his valve and when Jazz gave a hard suck around the tip, the lubricant trickled from his valve to his aft.

"—or care," Barricade finished breathlessly. One of his optics winked off and he stared at the other mech with a distracted expression on his face. "I won't last if you keep doing that."

Jazz crawled up onto Barricade's hips, suspending his pelvic unit over the Decepticon's cock so the very tip brushed against the warm and wet folds of his valve. "I can smell how eager you are for a warm wet pussy."

"It's your fault!"

"Oh yeah? Bet you're some fine breeding material. An excellent stud. Aren't the Decepticons doing a campaign to encourage mating?" Jazz teased, his voice raw with desire.

Jazz smiled, reaching underneath him so he could rub Barricade's cock even harder against the opening of his valve. He pushed the very head inside, forcing the tight rim to yield and spread.

"Who knows. Why? Are you interested?" Barricade asked, his optics glued at the lewd way in which his cock popped fully inside Jazz's valve.

The saboteur's folds pointed upwards, already engorged with energon from arousal and Barricade pressed them back with the fingers of one hand, fascinated with the way Jazz's valve seemed to hungrily consume ridge after ridge, bead after bead inside it.

When it was fully inside, Jazz let his visor flicker with pleasure. "Sure baby, I'll do anything for the credits," he replied breathlessly, spreading his hands widely over Barricade's chassis. He lifted his hips, feeling the rim of his valve catch over every bead. "But trust me...many have tried, few have been able to impregnate me. Decepticon, Autobot, or neutral."

Barricade stilled, optics flaring brightly at what Jazz implied. "I see…well _you_ might do anything for the credits but I wouldn't," he said, running the palms of his hands up Jazz's abdominal plates to cup the headlamps of his altmode. He caressed the rounded shape and squeezed, urging the mech to lean down so that he could mouth the glass and cover it with his oils.

"C'mon baby, ride me until you overload," Barricade encouraged, bucking his hips upwards to slam more of his cock through the hot passage of Jazz's valve until he was hilted up until the bulge of his knot allowed it. Lubrication was pushed out from where their interfaces connected with each inwards thrust and he licked a wet stripe, all the way from Jazz's chestplate, up his patched neck to the edge of his chin.

"Of course. I always give good," the saboteur responded.

Jazz canted his hips forward, grinding his pussy down on Barricade's cock as vigorously as he could. He bounced on the mech's lap, tilting his hips to a different side each stroke so he could enjoy the sensations more fully. Each time he pulled off even the slightest bit Jazz could feel the beads pressing hard along the walls and the swollen knot underneath pushed his valve entrance open a little wider. Jazz suddenly slowed his pace, gyrating his hips in a circle so he could reach down and forcibly shove another finger in alongside Barricade's cock to stretch the rim.

"Primus," Jazz gasped, his vents pouring out hot air. "Oh baby I'm gonna cum soon. Do you want your knot pushed inside me?"

"I thought I had to pay extra for that," Barricade grunted out, stretching his arm out behind Jazz to swat his upturned aft. The racer was fully laying back across the floor now, his wheel fairings swivelled to the side to accommodate the changed position. "Not that I have a problem."

Barricade's servos found themselves close to Jazz's valve where his knot was pressed hard up against the entrance, though it still couldn't push itself up inside through the tight rim. He experimentally slid in a finger of his own alongside Jazz's, widening it even further than it normally took.

"Good mech," Jazz purred as he slid his servo next to Barricade's inside his valve. "Always assume you're paying extra for services. Whores are sneaky like that."

Jazz leaned forward, pushing his chassis against Barricade's as he tilted his hips down and made a great deal of effort to relax the inner lining of his valve so the very edge of the rim could widen enough to accept some of the knot inside. However, he wasn't over the largest circumference yet and he didn't know how much pressure Barricade could take. Jazz continued to slide his wet valve along Barricade's cock, fighting his overload while simultaneously attempting to fit the knot inside him when he pushed against the base.

Barricade didn't look as if he was going to last long either. He continued to grunt and growl, body hot from the exertion and vent edges already wet with condensation.

"Slow down or else you'll tear yourself trying to get it in!"

He slapped Jazz's thigh to stop him from pushing down and as Jazz panted on top of him, Barricade shoved his free hand between their bodies to squeeze his own knot. It wasn't fully pressurised just yet and the tubing was still somewhat soft underneath his fingers. He manipulated it until the overlaying tubing slid further up his shaft, lessening the overall bulk of it and with both his and Jazz's fingers holding the overworked rim of his valve open, Jazz began to push down again onto it.

Their fingers slid out the moment the knot was fully engulfed inside. This time Barricade lifted the block he had on his interface protocols and allowed the knot to swell to its full size. The bead modifications followed suit, their protrusions bulging out until they dug into Jazz's inner lining. The Autobot was effectively trapped on him.

"I forgot to tell you," Barricade said, his voice mixed between a snarl and bursts of static from the overwhelming feeling of that tight valve squeezing around him. "Only way that knot goes down is if I cum several times inside you." He then leered at the other mech. "Good thing I've decided to buy a couple more sessions with you, eh."

"Oh...yes!"

The pressure was intense and so intimate that when Jazz shifted again, an overload wracked through his body so fiercely that he dug his claws harshly into Barricade's chassis as his body quivered through a series of pleasurable spasms. Jazz tilted his head back, staring blankly at the ceiling while his doorwings flicked up and down. When it was over, he nearly collapsed. The small mech dabbed at the transfluid that had splattered all over Barricade's abdomen from his cock.

"Oops... but you're just as stuck to me," Jazz purred back, gathering up the fluid with his fingers so he could suck it off.

Just to test the connection, Jazz slid his legs out onto the floor and tried to lift himself up off of Barricade.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, tilting his legs so he was resting back fully on Barricade.

"Told ya," Barricade gasped out, still recovering from his own overload.

"Big Decepticon likes pumping his bitches full of cum, hmm?" Jazz asked breathily. "Like I said...you really would make a good stud."

"I bet you say that to all the mechs," Barricade snorted, dimming one optic as he stared up at Jazz.

Despite the current predicament they were in, Barricade sat up fully and Jazz was forced to wrap both arms and legs around him so that Barricade could use the chair as support and haul himself up to his pedes. With Jazz clinging onto him, the commander staggered forward the few paces he needed to get to the berth.

Behind them, the glass that overlooked the arena was dark; all the matches had finished but dim lighting could still be seen from the tables and private booths down below. However, Barricade's attention was fully focused on Jazz and he slowly lowered them both onto the berth's soft surface, careful not to pull at the knot that was still inside his lover. Then, he reached to the storage unit at the berth's side, rummaging around it for the complimentary interface aids that the establishment provided until he found a small tube of synthetic lubricant.

"I hope you're ready for this," he said and he pushed the tube's nozzle up against their conjoined interface, squeezing it until most of the lubricant inside had squirted out onto the swollen, stretched rim of Jazz's valve.

"Slaggit!" Jazz exclaimed.

The lube was cold and Jazz couldn't help but squirm on Barricade's cock. With his valve relaxed, the rim wasn't stretched as wide, but just inside him Barricade had him stretched open so much it was painful.

With the fights over the only other activity in the building was in the pleasure rooms, which were rented out all the time. Otherwise everything else was quiet and secure with ample personnel that either maintained the integrity of the clients and prostitutes or made sure business was running smoothly.

Jazz began to gyrate his hips in small and concise motions, thrusting his chassis forward.

"C'mon baby, tell me what other kinks you have."

Barricade grinned and pushed his weight down further onto the smaller mech. The knot shifted inside the wet, still hot passage of Jazz's valve and the beads shifted upwards along with it to scrape across charged node clusters.

"Are you trying to wring out more credits from me, sweet Jazz?" he mused out loud and then hissed as inner walls constricted around his over-sensitive spike and knot tubing. "Because between what Motormaster had contracted with you and all the stuff I'm adding onto _that_ , I'm going to end up buying all—" He dragged out the word from his vocaliser in a sing-song manner, "—of your time in this dump until I end up being your only customer."

Before Jazz could answer, Barricade kissed him. It was a kiss designed to consume; the Decepticon's mouth and glossa pushing past Jazz's lips and his fingers prying the jaw wide to keep it from biting down. He explored the inside of Jazz's mouth thoroughly as he kept it open, glossa sliding across the inner components and denta until their combined oral oils ran down their chins.

Jazz pulled away and turned his helm to the side, not entirely comfortable with the intimate kiss.

"Autobot Jazz can't let you buy all of his time, because I have to take other clients for Autobot reasons," Jazz reminded Barricade lightly, though his tone was still strained. "So while you can take some of my time, you aren't going to fucking take all of it," Jazz said a little bit sharper, reaching up to scratch his claws across Barricade's dermal plating.

The saboteur's hand was slapped away and Barricade no longer had that amiable expression on his face.

"This is blackmail, baby," he hissed out maliciously. "Because no matter how many times you reinvent yourself, I _will_ recognise you and I _do_ have Soundwave on speed-dial."

Barricade pressed the palm of his hand lightly onto Jazz's throat, right where the patch was, hard enough to let Jazz feel the beginnings of a sting around the wound. He began to move his hips then, his engorged knot depressurising enough for it to slide back and forth inside Jazz's body. This time, it pressed from the inside of Jazz's entrance, stretching the rim around its bulk wide before Barricade thrust forward until his knot was sucked back inside.

"You want information to give to the Autobot commander sitting all clean and pristine behind his shiny desk, then you come to _me_ from now on!"

Jazz slapped Barricade's hand away from his throat and bared his denta, snarling angrily. "Yeah? I also got away from Soundwave twice, didn't I? He's just as fucked up as you are. Because trust me baby, cum a few times, get some energon in them and they'll tell me anything. I do the dirty work for the Autobots because I _want_ to."

Barricade's optics flaring out a bright hellish red. "I told you, I _like_ you. And when I like something, I want it all to myself!" he proclaimed.

There was a whine of gears when Barricade grabbed Jazz's knees and pushed them even wider than they were, forcibly bending them to Jazz's chestplates until the edge of his aft was elevated slightly off the berth's surface. It enabled Barricade to fuck him a little harder and grind his cock in deeper so that his tip would breach the inlet of Jazz's gestation chamber. He could feel it quivering stubbornly against his tip, barely yielding to his presence and then finally letting him through when he thrust in harder.

"So what do you do with my Decepticon brethren, eh slut?" Barricade hissed, bringing his face down close to Jazz's. "Do you woo them with your skills, pump up their ego and challenge them into trying to impregnate you, making them with all the praise you give them that they'd be the lucky one when in truth all you're doing is sucking them out of credits and information? Were you hoping the same with me?"

The pang of pleasure that shot through Jazz was so intense that it sent him into another small overload. He moaned breathily, his legs tightly wrapping around Barricade's aft while he raked his claws down the mech's back.

"I fuck them. I fuck them good, just how they like it. Then I do it again and again until they're comfortable with me and trust me. All I have to do then is listen in. Easiest job in all of Cybertron. All I have to watch out for is Soundwave."

Jazz leaned forward, kissing Barricade's lips. He ran his glossa along the mech's denta.

"But even a mech like that has his price." Jazz murmured. "Everyone does."

Barricade returned the kiss, breathing hard against Jazz's parted mouth. He didn't even seem to mind the pain of Jazz's claw tips digging into the seams of his back. In fact, it just seemed to spurn him on.

"And what's yours? Don't tell me it's credits because I know it's not true," he said, grunting as lubricant squelched out from between their legs where he had slammed his cock so forcefully into Jazz's valve that the smaller mech found himself sliding up the berth's surface.

"I don't have a price baby," Jazz hissed, his yellow visor flickering. Each push of Barricade's knot opened him up further, putting more pressure inside him in such a pleasurable that lubricant was freely leaking down. "I take credits only. All I want is for Cybertron to be at peace and the war to end. Is that too much to ask?"

"Is that the Autobot in you coming out?" Barricade asked, chortling with amusement at the answer he got. "C'mon, you bitch, you know that I know you're more selfish than that."

Barricade shifted his position again, this time pulsing out his energy field so that it burned around their bodies with its dominating aura. At that moment, he was an alpha Decepticon who wanted to show the bitch his place and he did so by holding Jazz's wrists down above his helm. He slowed the movements of his hips,  pulling them back until Jazz's visor flickered with discomfort from the extreme stretch of the knot trying to slide through his opening before slamming his cock back inside until Jazz was fully and utterly impaled on it like a small, defenceless creature.

"Let me guess… you want to kill all Decepticons. You want to kill Megatron yourself. Someone else? Soundwave? Starscream? Is it revenge? A grudge you can't let go of?" Barricade paused to kiss the side of Jazz's mouth. "Do you have bad purging cycles when you recharge? Or do you dream of someone you can never have?"

"Starscream... not worth my time. I can't kill Megatron; Optimus has to do it. Soundwave... I'll hunt him down if it's the last thing I do," Jazz replied stiffly as he reached down to slap Barricade's aft. "My selfish want? A family again. A sparkling. A life I can call my own. Where I can go home to the same cock every night with someone who tells me he loves me," Jazz snappishly added, becoming increasingly agitated with each thrust that pushed him up against the berth.

Barricade's sick little grin widened at that. "I thought you had some sparklings lying about. You implied that some have been able to impregnate you regardless." He stopped his thrusting and bent forward, whispering against Jazz's sensory horn. "Unless you sold them later on for more credits."

Jazz's reaction was so swift that Barricade had little time to react. Jazz reached out for the table next to the berth so he could firmly grip a stylus and he plunged it into Barricade's neck. With a hiss the saboteur pushed it in deeper as mech-blood splattered down on his face.

Barricade froze, unpleasant shock registering clearly on his face.

"Fuck you," Jazz spat out.

The stylus was wedged in at an angle, straight in between the ribbing of his main energon tube. But then his optics flickered and he abruptly grinned savagely at the mech he was fucking, his mouth full of large fangs and gleaming denta.

"Oh baby, you do know how to get a mech's transfluid boiling for you," Barricade exclaimed with a rasp, tearing Jazz's hand and the stylus away from his neck.

The wound wasn't terrible but it yielded a couple of more spurts of hot mechblood before his fuel system rerouted most of it through his secondary lines. With a loud excited roar of his engine, Barricade held Jazz down and his knot felt as if it was swelling even more from where it had been stuck inside Jazz's body. He grunted, pushing his body further against Jazz until the saboteur was forced to tilt his hips upwards, until his own channel seemed to constrict in size around the heavily-modified spike. With their interfaces flush against each other, Barricade's tip had lodged through Jazz's inlet, straight into the incredibly heated space of his gestational chamber.

"Hhaa…so damn tight around me, gonna fill you, gonna fill you up…" the Decepticon chanted, mouth hanging open in his pleasure.

"Go and do it!" Jazz snarled angrily. "I've felt so much thrusting and empty threats so far that I'm not convinced you're as _mech_ as you say. Fill me up with cum, make me scream in pleasure! But no, you're just a sparkling with too many credits!" the smaller mech shouted as he shoved his hips back up harshly against Barricade's thrusts. "All Decepticons are the same, thrusting away until they spill their cum everywhere – _Oh_! _Jazz_ _baby_ , you make it so good, squeeze your pussy harder or I'll cut your head off!"

"You must like it, whoring yourself out to us Decepticons when there's many other ways to gather Intel," Barricade panted out harshly in between his words. "But you're not very good at your job, are you? Not with the way you complain about your paying customers."

He paused, lifting up one arm to rub at his injured neck, smearing the congealing blood all over his chin and mouth before licking his palm clean. Then he began grinding his hips up against Jazz's – there wasn't much else he could do given how the knot restricted most of his movements. But it didn't take Barricade long to overload. His body seized from the pleasure, chestplates thrust outwards as his transfluid was forcefully pumped out, hot and thick, straight through Jazz's inlet and into his gestational chamber. There was much more liquid in comparison to his first overload and Barricade keened, almost as if he was in pain when he was wracked with the aftershocks.

The knot began to depressurise almost immediately after that. With a wet noise of suction, Barricade began to pull back and Jazz's valve gripped onto it greedily for a brief moment before his knot finally slid free. A thick mixture of fluids gushed out from the loosened opening, despite Barricade's cock still buried inside.

"Only with you," Jazz said coldly, though this time a slender knife was held in his hand. Who knew how he had fished that out from his subspace without Barricade noticing. "Get your cock out of my pussy before I cut it off, baby. Motormaster's time slot has just ended, and while I'd love for you to take up more, something has come up. I'm sorry, I'll have to reschedule another time."

Barricade snorted and didn't appear concerned at the threat he just received. He withdrew completely from Jazz's valve and when he glanced down, his optics visibly darkened with renewed lust at the sight of the gaping hole, sloppily leaking cum and lubricant.

"Kiss me like you mean it and I'll give you the location of one of our new supply routes," he said, sitting back against the berth's support board and completely unabashed at the messy state of his still exposed interface.

Jazz's visor flickered and his lip curled upwards with disdain. "What?"

"Kiss me and I'll give you a supply route," Barricade drawled out flatly.

Jazz surged forward on the berth, sliding up against Barricade so he was once again straddling the Decepticon. He held the knife firmly to Barricade's throat where the circular wound was still leaking a small amount of energon blood.

Jazz breathed harshly as he leaned down and passed his glossa over the wound, then probed it inside. He kissed it, mouthing the edges with his denta and lips.

"Really?" Jazz asked. "How is it you want me to kiss you? Kiss you like a treasured lover, or kiss you like a client I want to get information out of?"

Barricade's vents swivelled at the knife's close proximity as he drew in a heavy drought of air. His plating was still hot to the touch from their strenuous interface.

"Kiss me like you would a treasured bondmate," Barricade murmured. "I'm curious whether you're capable of that."

"Oh, you break my poor little spark," Jazz mocked. He grabbed Barricade's head, sliding his hands along the mech's jaw. The saboteur let his visor flicker off so he could gather his concentration and clear his mind so he could make the kiss as realistic as possible. Jazz breathed out and leaned forward, sliding his lips across Barricade's.

When Jazz turned his visor back on, it wasn't a Decepticon. It was Meister instead. Meister with his sharp features that were so rugged and handsome that Jazz had instantly been attracted to him. Dark and dangerous. But also very sweet, possessive, and _real._

Jazz broke apart with a gasp and pushed himself away.

"I can't. I... have to go."

He jolted up off of the berth and onto the floor, disappearing out of the door into the hallway beyond. Barricade was still lounging back with a pursed mouth and a perplexed expression.

"Huh…guess it wasn't all that important to him," he mused out loud, rubbing at his sore neck.

With an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion, he threw his arms out and flopped back against the soft mattress.


End file.
